When exploring Detroit's less affluent neighborhoods one expects certain smells, sight and sounds; such sensations surely solidify Detroit's reputation as a shithole. Whether it be the dirty doxies, the duplicitous drug dealers, or even the dingy diners, nothing darkens Detroit's name and cityscape more than Uncle Joe's Foul Fowl. Exacerbating the exuded odor of butchered offal emanating from the area one hopes isn't the kitchen, is the sight of the exterior: shrouded, dim, and uninviting. The only noteworthy landmark being the signage advertising the Ligambi family Linguine, an obvious attempt to lure unsuspecting luncheoners to their lousy lot.

Upon entering you are greeted by the grim visage of a gaunt gentleman guarding the Maitre D's stand, a glower and grimace his only response to your arrival. Futilely, he attempts to force your exit through willpower alone, however, frustrating his plans, his efforts appear to be for naught. Kvetching quietly to himself, he proceeds to knock loudly on his stand before addressing you, "Follow me to your table; our specials today are kabob, a kale salad, or kidney pie."

"What can I get for you?"